a whirlwind.

this was a sort of whirlwind week, or few weeks. it feels like at the end of the year (the scholastic year, that is), we’re like a ball rolling–nay, careening!–down a hill, picking up speed, never mind dust and dirt, to finally land–kerplunk! (that’s a nod to a summer favorite: robert mccloskey)–into the pond at the bottom of the hill. or, in this case, summer.

sweet, sweet summer.

it was 7:10 am. “steve!” i yelled up. “i haven’t seen lindsey yet!” sure enough, she overslept her alarm (by a mere two hours as she’d set it for 5 am; i have a similar story from my own youth), and upon hearing his voice yelling up to her, popped out of bed, threw clothes on, her hair up, jumped in the car to be raced down the street to school one last time. i get a call as i’m driving towards home, “i forgot my clarinet!”

then we’re back for her graduation ceremony an hour later, before racing on to parker’s last day show and ceremony. by some magical stroke of luck, there was a boy selling coffee on the side of the road (what an impressive little entrepeneur. coffee! he was out there by 7 am and had both iced and hot.) and i stopped. “iced please!” he put just enough cream in it, and off i went enjoying my good fortune. anders fell asleep in the backseat before i took the last sip.

lindsey is less emotional than the majority of her friends as she moves onto the high school. (high school! she’s going to be a freshman!) i think this is mostly cause she’s a cool cat. because, of course, all of these girls are pretty much moving on… together. but i get it, too. was i one of the ones who weeped as she graduated 8th grade? i can’t recall. but i’d like to think i wasn’t.

to parker’s school we ventured next. his little class put on a brief and ridiculously sweet show. my timid, doesn’t-want-all-eyes-on-him-ever boy stood up and had a short part in which he spoke in front of all the parents. i was so proud of him. i’ve already watched the video back about five times. then all the families found a spot outside and sat on blankets brought from home to go through our child’s portfolio together. i loved looking through all of his work, but even more sweet was the way he kept looking at me as he flipped through the pages. it was such concentrated eye contact, with a look of pride on his face, waiting to see my reaction as he turned each one.

it was sunny, then it was cloudy, then it poured, and now the sun is out again. it’s a bit analogous for my mood today. so much pride and joy for these kids of mine, and yet there’s that bit of sadness that time marches on to the beat of its own drum, never in synch with my own. it won’t stop, so i’m learning how to march alongside it, or at least close behind.